ion know how long i'll be able to continue this little story, what with school and all, but i will definitely try my best (ง'̀-'́)ง

and a dearest thank you to TUCfan for my first ever review; you have no idea how much your encouraging words mean to me.

certain fics from this fandom have gotten me through rough times in the past... it's a daunting task, but it would truly be a dream to pay it back.


2 - Surrounded

The next day brought different challenges.

As was standard routine, he woke up, ate his breakfast, and headed over to Mrs. Comarci's place.

His family's financial situation was never really stable, and with his Grandma's condition, there was never really much wiggle room, money-wise. However, there was one thing that did remain constant over the years, and that was Mrs. Comarci, and her endless jobs for Gregor.

Not that he was complaining. It seemed that there was always something to do over at her place, and she always rewarded him with a generous amount of money for his work. Even before she knew about the whole Underland situation, she always recruited him for whatever tasks she needed help doing - be it grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, anything. Just last summer he had assisted her with redoing the painting job on her patio.

This weekend was no different, if not a bit more lax. This time, he was tasked with helping her around with general household chores. First, he helped her rearrange the couches in her living room because she wanted a little "change in scenery." Next, he helped her do her laundry for the week. Finally, once everything was set and thrown into the washer, they began a clean-up of the entire house, which included wiping all the floors, reorganizing items on shelves, and dusting all corners in existence.

"Make sure to get this spot too," she told him, showing him an area behind the TV that was particularly dusty. "It's been collecting. I must say, the TV box attracts dust like a magnet."

"Probably just the circuits and electricity inside. Something to do with magnetism," said Gregor, wiping around the TV stand with a microfibre duster.

"Alright. I'm going to get to work in the kitchen, then."

He gave her a thumbs-up before she left to go into the next room, where the kitchen was. The living room was in a moderately sized space with the couches on one end, her TV stand on the other, and a hallway on one of the adjacent walls. On the side opposite was the screen door leading to the balcony of the apartment. In the middle was a large table stacked with magazines and other miscellaneous items. The TV was turned on and playing some kind of news channel.

"...and the robberies of the 29th are only the latest in the string of crimes connected to the Sevencolors Gang. Currently, there are still no leads as to who the perpetrators are. Law enforcement has speculated that these crimes may also be connected to similar incidents, including several kidnappings, spanning multiple states, such as Virginia, Ohio, Arkansas - even as far as Washington and Oregon. Such evidence points to the possibility of a nationwide criminal organization…"

He stood up, having finished dusting the entirety of the T.V. stand, and surveyed the living room. There wasn't much left to do for the day, and before he left he had promised Boots that he'd come and take her to the park once he was done.

He put away the duster and slid open Mrs. Comarci's screen door, stepping out onto the balcony. He laid his hands on the railing and looked out over the city. It was the weekend, and the streets were bustling with activity. It was bright out, but to the East, he could see dark clouds slowly edging their way towards them. He may have to cut their time at the park short later.

He made his way back inside and towards the kitchen, where Mrs. Comarci was preparing some kind of dish.

"Hey Mrs. Comarci, I'm done with all the dusting. Is there any way I can help in here?"

She looked around for a second.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you can," she said, handing him a cutting board with a knife and carrots. "I need you to chop these up into small pieces, like when we made that fried rice. This time make them bigger, but no bigger than a quarter of an inch wide."

"What are we making today?" he asked, taking the chopping board to the little island in the kitchen and beginning to chop the carrots.

"Mixed vegetable curry. You know, something a bit healthier for someone my age."

He peered out over the assortment of other ingredients that were beside her on the counter.

"This seems like a lot," he noted. "Are you sure you'll be able to finish all of this by yourself?"

"Of course not. I'll be giving the rest of what we make to you and your family."

"You know, Mrs. Comarci, you really don't have to go through the trouble of doing this for us-"

"Nonsense," she scoffed, dicing through onions with inhuman speed. "The vegetables were on sale, and it would simply be a waste to let all of the leftovers sit and degrade inside my fridge. Everyone wins."

"Well, on behalf of my family, we really can't thank you enough," said Gregor. "Everything you've been doing for us has been a huge help. Especially now, with our grandma in the hospital and all…"

"Oh, don't beat yourself up over it," she said cheerfully. "I'm happy to help. And besides, it's you working for me, after all. It's only necessary I pay you back for your efforts."

What constituted "fair pay" for his work was a bit blurry; he felt she had always given him more than he deserved, but given his family's situation, every cent mattered. So he left it at that.

As he continued to cut up the carrots, his mind drifted back to the last night, where he had laid down in Central Park and thought over things.

"Say, Mrs. Comarci, I have a question," he said.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think… how do you think everyone is doing down there?" he asked, tentatively. "Down in the Underland?"

"Oh, you know your mother doesn't like that kind of talk," she said with a laugh.

"I know, I know, but… it's just been on my mind lately. The Underland, I mean."

"Still haven't heard back from them?"

"Not a word."

"Your parents did seal off that grate, though," she said, before shaking her head. "Oof, it still gives me shivers, remembering that giant bat just appearing out of thin air…"

"Yeah. I don't know. I guess it just makes me uneasy, the silence. Makes me wonder if anything's been going on down there." He put his head down and focused on chopping, as he found his hand slipping.

"Whatever it is, you know they'll pull through," said Mrs. Comarci. "Those Regalians are a resilient bunch. And they have powerful allies. There's no doubt in my mind that they can't handle whatever's thrown at them. As for the silence…"

She stopped working on the onions for a moment, thinking.

"As for the silence, well, truthfully, I don't know what to think about it either. It might be unusual, but also not entirely unexpected," she said, continuing to dice. "The main route of communication is closed off. If they were in true danger and needed you, wouldn't they go through the effort of getting a message to you in a different way?"

"Like Ripred's rats or something," he pondered. "Yeah. I guess that's true." Somehow the idea still made him glum. Did they no longer need him? It was just another question that would never be answered.

"I don't understand why my Mom still acts this way," he blurted out.

"Acts what way?" said Mrs. Comarci.

"She still hates the place. Even after all this time. Just the other night, we had another argument about it and she blew up at us again." His face turned sour thinking about it, and how upset Lizzie had ended up.

"Well, you know your mother-"

"That's not what I meant," said Gregor. "I just mean, it's been four years already. Wouldn't she at least have softened up, even just a little bit? You can't just expect everyone to instantly forget everything about the place. It's just… it's just not possible."

"Trauma can last for ages after the fact," she said softly.

For a minute that silenced him. It was his Mom who insisted on coming down herself the one time, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilt over everything that happened to her as a result. And he could only imagine the pain and anxiety she felt, lying in the hospital bed with the plague, waiting for him and Boots to return from some dangerous quest. That was almost certainly on the level of trauma for his Mom.

"What about you, Mrs. Comarci? What do you think?" he asked.

"What do I think? Hmm…" She had finished with the onions and moved on to potatoes. "To tell you the truth, I was initially in favour of you all moving to Virginia. But that's not the whole story."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way. When my son moved away for his education, we both knew it was for the best. I didn't want him to go, of course; what mother wouldn't? And it was only a matter of time before he moved away again for his work, and then finally moved out, permanently, to live with his new family.

"I knew it was necessary and would happen eventually. But still… It doesn't stop me from missing him every single day. We talk to each other sometimes over the phone, but he's a busy man. Oftentimes I wish I had the money, or the strength, to visit him overseas."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. My point is, he had to move away eventually, and I don't have the means of visiting him any time soon. And all his problems aside, I miss him every day. So I think I can understand how you're feeling. You want to return to the Underland, right?"

"I don't know… yeah. Maybe." An image of her flashed in his head. "B-but, more out of worry than anything," he added quickly. "At least you can sometimes communicate with your son. Everything's cut off with the Underland."

"That is worrisome," she said, tapping the knife on the edge of the cutting board. "If my son didn't update me every week, goodness, I don't know what I'd do. Maybe call the local police or something."

"Yeah."

They continued to prepare the vegetables. When they had finished cooking, she poured herself a share and shoved the entire rest of the batch into a large container, giving it to Gregor.

"Like I said, this is too much for me. Your family will need it more than I do."

He got on his shoes, sweater, and backpack at her door. Mrs. Comarci took out a wad of cash and placed it inside the bag with the curry.

"I better get going. Boots will be waiting for me," he said with a small smile. "Thanks for everything again, Mrs. Comarci."

"Right. And Gregor."

"Yeah?"

"I know things aren't going the best with your family right now," she said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But believe me when I say, keep your loved ones close. Tell them you love them, or give them a hug, even if you aren't one for affection. You never know when a goodbye will be the last one you get to say."

"Always with the cryptic messages," he laughed. "Get that from another tarot card?"

"Maybe. But does it make it any less true?"

She handed him the bag and he thanked her once more before turning and heading out.


In the distance, he heard the low rumbling of thunder. The dark clouds had swooped over the city, enveloping the park in a gloomy, grey shadow. But that didn't stop Boots from having an absolute blast.

"Look, Gregor, look!" she yelled as she scaled some of the taller structures at the park.

"Hey, hey, be careful, you little parkour devil." He watched her in unease from his place on the swings as she continued to climb the place like a monkey in the jungle.

He shifted his gaze to the sky and began to lazily push himself off the gravel, swinging himself gently.

"They'd get a message to me in a different way, huh," he thought to himself, "if they really needed me. They'd get a message up here. Somehow."

As if to distract himself, he looked over to where Boots was playing on the monkey bars. He smiled as he watched her navigate to the top of the jungle gym, flapping her arms and making weird motions at the top. She was getting bigger and smarter, as most kids do when four years pass. A while back the family had suggested changing her nickname to something that suited her real name, Margaret, better - like Mags, or Maggie, or whatever. But she insisted on 'Boots.' It had been her nickname for so long that it eventually just stuck.

Her own memories of the Underland, they guessed, were foggy at best. After all, she was way too young to remember much of it; however, she would sometimes talk about having strange dreams where she was flying through the air and visions of an enchanted palace somewhere far away. Of course, whenever she did, they were quickly dismissed.

It was sad, in a way. To forget a place like the Underland. But at the same time, he also envied her - while the memories of the Underland would naturally fade away for her, they would be burned into Gregor's mind forever. And it didn't help that their mother was actively encouraging the forgetting process.

Fog began to roll in, and the rain clouds began to loom over the park.

"Okay, Boots, time to get down!" He called, as he began feeling a light drizzle over his skin.

They didn't stay long. As they were walking home, the rain began to pour down, so they ran the rest of the way.


By the time they got home, dinner was already prepared and everyone was getting situated around the table. After he and Boots threw on some dry clothes, they met up with Lizzie, who had been doing homework, and sat at the dinner table with their parents.

The mixed vegetable curry that he and Mrs. Comarci had made was distributed among the five of them, and everyone happily dug in for their first really nourishing meal in a while.

"What did you do at Mrs. Comarci's place?" asked his Mom.

"Besides making this absolutely amazing curry," his Dad chimed in.

"Nothing too special. Just general household cleaning," said Gregor.

"You know, I think we could use some of that around here," said his Mom, taking a spoonful of curry. "The old apartment is due for a deep clean."

He gave a shrug and continued eating. "Maybe another day."

"How's the schoolwork coming along?" his Dad asked Lizzie.

"Fine," she said.

"What're you working on?"

"Just this small science project."

"Science project? What's it about?" asked Gregor.

"It's about the brain. Alzheimer's."

"The brain?" Thought Gregor aloud. "I don't remember having to learn much about that when I was in your grade."

"You don't, really," she said simply. "It was an elective project. We choose our topics."

"Why'd you choose that then?"

"I thought it was cool. And, well, you know. Grandma."

"She doesn't have Alzheimer's though."

"It's a disease that hits seniors. And she's already hospitalized. The future's never certain."

"Oh…"

"You shouldn't joke about things like that," said his Dad, furrowing his brow.

"It wasn't a joke though," she replied flatly.

"I don't think now is the time or place for talk like that, honey."

"...Oh. Sorry."

A sort of awkward silence followed, only filled by the sounds of eating and the soft patter of rain outside.

"So, how was the park?" His Mom asked Boots, changing the subject.

Boots, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, said with glee: "It was really fun! It was dark and cloudy and I climbed to the very top of the playground! I could see the whole world."

"You let her climb to the top of the playground? Like the actual top? Of the roofs?" said his Mom, eyeing him with suspicion. "That's dangerous, isn't it?" He gave a nervous chuckle in response.

"Wasn't too scary." said Boots, taking in a spoonful of curry. "It's fun being high up. It's like I'm flying!" She flapped her arms up and down on the side for emphasis.

"Flying? Flying like what?" She put down her fork.

"I dunno, like a firefly. Or a moth. Or a bat!" Boots flapped her arms again.

She turned sharply to Gregor, eyes narrowed. "What have you been telling her? What have you done?"

"Huh?" he said, blinking. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"I want you to never let her climb to the top of those jungle gyms ever again," she said sternly.

"What? That's crazy–"

"Grace, stop-"

"Wait, huh? What's wrong?" asked Boots. "Did I say something bad?"

"Nothing's wrong," said Lizzie, distastefully. "Mom's having another fit. She just needs to chill out."

"Chill out?" she said angrily. "This is a very serious matter! And what's with that attitude-"

"Mom, can you just shut up for once?" Lizzie suddenly snapped.

The response was so outrageously uncharacteristic of her that everyone was shocked speechless, including Lizzie herself. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment.

"Just stop," she continued, her voice rising. "We all know how much you hate the Underland. And we're all tired of hearing the same thing over and over again!"

"Underland—?" began Boots, wide-eyed.

"How can you talk to me like that?" Gregor's Mom said, raising her voice to a shout. "How can you say things like that? After everything I've done for all of you?"

"After everything you've done for us? What, like constantly yelling at us just for every little thing-?"

"EVERYONE, STOP!" boomed Gregor's father, standing up from the table. "Lizzie, up to your room. Now."

"But she just needs to listen-"

"I said now."

She angrily shoved herself from the table, chair screeching across the floor, before storming up the stairs. A door slammed soon after.

"The nerve of that girl-" began Gregor's Mom.

"You too, Grace," said his father. "You all need to calm down. We will talk about this later."

She looked at him for a moment, incredulously, before stomping off across the living room and into the bedroom, closing the door with anger.

They watched her back retreat into the bedroom. For a few seconds after the door closed, Gregor's Dad remained frozen, making sure everything was clear. He released a held breath, coughing hard into his arm, before unsteadily sitting back down into his chair. He was just as stunned as Gregor.

Gregor looked over to where Boots was sitting beside him, and she looked at them both with watery eyes.

"I don't know what I did," she said weakly, "but I'm sorry."


1:04 AM.

The heavy rain had mostly subsided, however there was still a light shower pouring down over the city.

He got up from his bed, opened his windowsill, and took a long, deep breath of the fresh morning air. Then he made his way to the closet and pulled out the same brown sweater, leather jacket, and jeans, and changed out of his sleeping clothes. Then, after a moment's consideration, he also took out a black windbreaker that would double as a raincoat.

He strode over to his nightstand. He grabbed and slipped his wallet into his pocket. Then, he opened the drawer and took out the Huntsman knife. He carefully pulled it out, examined it under the light for any imperfections, then let it slide back into its nylon sheath. After clipping it onto his belt buckle, he also took his watch, fastening it around his wrist.

When the preparations were done, he made his way to the window. He leaned his body out and peered down the street. The neighbourhood was foggy and grey, and the few streetlights that lined the roads stood like watchtowers in the mist. But, as usual, there was no one to be seen. Which was to be expected, especially given the weather. The rain did somewhat interfere with his echo, but he didn't think much of it. He had made this journey too many times before.

In one swift movement, he swung himself out and fell to the ground. The grass was soft and mushy, compressing under the weight of his steel toes. After gaining his ground, he stood up, took a deep breath, and began moving silently through the neighbourhood.

It was cold, dark, and foggy. You could see every drop of rain through the light of the street lamps. Thunder roared in the distance; a sort of white noise created by the light rain drowned out everything else.

What am I doing with my life, he thought to himself as he walked.

He felt aimless. No matter what he did, it never felt like he made any progress in life; be it academics, work, fitness, whatever. And things seemed to only trend downward for his family. First Grandma, then the money, and now things were somehow getting worse from within. He didn't know what to do. At least they had Mrs. Comarci to help on the side, but, despite her efforts, her help seemed to pale in comparison to everything they were facing now.

It was as if nothing he was doing was changing anything for his family's situation. His Dad was still ill; Lizzie and Boots were still too young to help much; His Mom was already burning herself out at work just to provide a place for them to live. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his uselessness. It felt like everything was falling apart. Even if it wasn't.

And then there was the Underland to think about. He felt like he was dragging a massive, invisible boulder around wherever he went. It weighed him down like chains tying him to the ends of the earth. Occasionally it would lighten, or sometimes he would even forget about it, but one way or another he would always be reminded of its presence.

With a muddy boot, he kicked at a stone along the sidewalk as the city lights faded into view. The silhouettes of the massive New York skyscrapers were no longer clear and bright; instead, they stood imposing, like sentinels watching and judging his every move, shrouded by the mist. He felt… small.

Once again he wondered how much different life would be, had they lived down there instead of up here. Of course, he had no idea what the situation was like down there - they had lost contact for four years - but he could only take that to mean that things were running normally, and they didn't need him. But how had life changed for the better since moving back permanently? He tried to recall a memory from when the last time things were going well for him and his family, and everyone was happy.

And he couldn't find one. No matter how hard he tried. Even before he fell into the Underland, all those years ago, things were a mess. He couldn't even remember the last time, post moving back to the Overland, that he himself was genuinely happy. Or did he?

His mind fluttered to the last night, where he had laid down at the top of that hill in Central Park, peering at a dark, folded picture...

He shook his head vigorously. That was a past long gone. He had to focus on the now. That's what he really should've been doing on all these fucking pointless night walks. Focus on the now.

Leaves rustled. A plastic bag fluttered in the wind. A car engine revved far away. Rain pattered on his windbreaker. He watched his breath flow from his mouth and dissipate into the cold air. He focused on these things in an attempt to distract himself from darker thoughts.

And that was when he noticed the figure following behind him.

A hand was instinctively on the hilt of his Huntsman. He continued walking forward, taking long deep breaths. In his mind's eye, he visualized; the figure was shorter than him. It had more of a petit stature, and was holding some kind of umbrella. A kid? He thought. What kid wanders around alone at this time, in this weather?

He rounded one of the usual corners through the neighbourhood, one he always made on his way to the park. Sure enough, within a minute, he sensed the same small figure appear from behind the corner, trailing behind him. What could this kid want from me?

He didn't want to deal with this right now. Maybe he was just lost and needed his help or something. With a sigh, he turned around to face the figure. He couldn't see who it was behind the umbrella, raincoat, and rain. "Can I help you?" he called into the air.

The kid stopped for a second, as if startled. Then, after a moment, they walked forward, lifting their hood.

His eyes widened when he realized that the figure who had been following him, and was standing in front of him now, was Lizzie.

She was dressed in a thick black sweater along with a little grey raincoat. Her hair was ruffled and messy, but a single braid still ran down her shoulders. On her back was a small, purple backpack. She wore regular jeans and a pair of old sneakers which he was quite sure weren't waterproof. In her right hand, she held one of the family's clear dome umbrellas. His senses never flared, probably because he already subconsciously knew who it was.

"What in the - what are you doing here? How did you find me?" he asked incredulously.

She looked up at him with heavy eyes. "I followed you."

"Why? Why would you do that?" he asked, bewildered. He swung his head around, as if he would suddenly find his Mom and Dad nearby, watching and fuming anger. "We need to get you home."

"I'd really rather not." She looked away from him. "Not right now, at least. I just wanted to get away for a bit, to… to clear my head. And, I wanted to talk to you." Her voice was soft and quiet.

"I'm not sure if this is really the best time or place," he began, before he caught a glimpse of her face. She looked so tired. Sad. Something was clearly eating at her. "...but alright, Liz. I'll hear you out. Then we're getting you home." For her to come out and find him, during the night, in this weather, she must have been dealing with something heavy. And he already had an idea as to what it was.

She nodded. They sat side by side on a nearby bench that sat below a large tree, whose leaves effectively shielded them from the rain. Save for the light of the nearby streetlamps and the faint city lights, the neighbourhood was dark. There was nobody else nearby.

"Alright, Liz," he said reassuringly, "what's on your mind?"

"Well… before I start… look, Gregor. I know you're probably really mad right now - but please believe me when I say that I thought this was the only way I could reach you."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, after yesterday's argument, I finally understood how you felt about the whole situation. For so long, I thought I was the only one who felt this way. But we've never really been allowed to talk about it because of Mom."

She turned her head forward, staring at the wet concrete. Her hands sat in her lap, and she twiddled her thumbs, thinking hard about something.

"And, well, during the day, you're always so distant and unavailable," she continued. "You'd always lock up in your room - and when you'd come out, it would always be for only a little while. There was no one to talk to. Anything I told Dad, he would tell Mom, and she would freak. Boots was probably too little to remember much. And after school, you were always gone on some kind of errand during the day."

He was slammed by a wave of shame as he realized that throughout these trying times, he could not even be there for his sister. He had no idea that she was going through the same pain that he was. But she continued.

"I couldn't sleep at night. Even if I took melatonin, I just couldn't. My mind would always drift back off to the Underland-" she cut off, as if saying the Underland was an equivalent offense as swearing, but Gregor nodded for her to continue. That she was okay talking with him. "...and lately it's just been getting worse. You know what happened the other day? I saw a small rat. Just a normal, Overland-sized one. It was scurrying across the school hallway. And just because of that, I almost had another panic attack." She closed her eyes and shook her head, chuckling lightly. "I've been really good for a while - yet one little thing nearly set it off."

Now he could tell that she was hurting. He shifted over on the bench and wrapped his arm around her.

"I said that the sleepless nights have been getting worse right? Well, that was when I began to notice that every weekend, at around one in the morning, your windowsill would open, and you'd be gone, only to return a few hours later. Right before Mom gets up for work. So I just wondered where'd you be going so early in the morning every night. And if I mentioned it to you, then you'd just ask what I was talking about, and never go out at this time ever again. So today I followed you instead." She looked up at Gregor, before solemnly adding, "Sorry." She half-expected him to throw a fit at her stupid act, going out so early, in the dark, where dangers lurked around every corner.

But he only stroked the braid of her hair before sighing. "No, don't be sorry, Liz. This was going to happen, eventually, anyway - I guess it's best that it happens now," he said in his best comforting voice. "But right now, we really should be getting you home…"

Then he made a decision. He had been so absorbed in his own needs that he totally forgot about his own sister's, and felt that he had to finally act like the big brother she needed.

"On second thought, why don't you come along with me? We can talk about everything you want about the Underland and finally get this off of our chests." He stood up, dusting himself off. Then he stretched a hand out to her. "Under one condition."

Lizzie looked up at her brother, whose worn face shone in the white light of the street lamps.

"Try not to look too tired when we're supposed to get up tomorrow morning," he said, twisting his mouth into one of his now-rare grins, before taking her hand and leading his sister down the misty, morning streets.


Lizzie's arm remained wrapped around Gregor's as they strolled through the suburbs, talking about their experiences in the Underland and about everyone they missed. As they talked and Lizzie continued to confide in him, Gregor became increasingly aware of how little time he actually spent with Lizzie throughout her life, and another twinge of shame tore through him. Especially in his journeys through the Underland, Boots had been his top priority - the weakest, most innocent, and most defenseless person. It made logical sense that she took precedence over his other family members. But he had only now come to realize that Lizzie was taking it just as hard as he - if not even worse, since, while they were less frequent, she still occasionally had those terrible panic attacks. Solemnly, he made a vow to himself to be the one that Lizzie could turn to when she needed to vent or let out her feelings. Because she had no one else to turn to, because he was her big brother, and because it was his responsibility.

As they continued walking, their conversations had turned back to Gregor and his own adventures. Lizzie was not with him and Boots during the first three prophecies, and she picked up on the fact that there was information missing in the stories that he told his family, all those years ago. And so they began. From saving Twitchtip from the vortex to Pandora's gruesome death, good and bad, he told Lizzie of everything. Part of him winced every time he came to a particularly rough memory, like when he had first seen Ares with the plague in the hospital, but another part of him felt a wave of relief as he sifted through his Underland adventures with Lizzie. It was as if this immense pressure that had been weighing on his chest for the last four years suddenly began to lift.

However, he remained consistent in one point during his storytelling: His relationship with her.

Luxa.

His mind both savoured and shot back in pain at the mere thought of her name. He left out many of the intimate moments that he had shared with her during his story, because he had not quite yet come to terms with them. But he figured that it would come with time. Hopefully.

As Gregor started explaining to her about the collapse of the Swag during Luxa's, Howard's, and his "picnic," he realized that they had come up upon the large green plaza. Central Park.

Despite the night and the rain, Central Park was lit up beautifully by multiple lamps that followed the trail around the lake. The building lights that surrounded the water on all four sides reflected along the dark water, creating an iridescent and elegant pattern of light. The trees themselves were shrouded in darkness, but it mattered not when the main path was lit up easily. And if you had the skill of echolocation.

Beside him, his sister stood frozen, gazing longingly into the park. He nudged her, and she bristled. "You alright, Liz?"

"Yeah. Sorry, just… I haven't been this close in a long time. Ever since we left, Mom and Dad stopped taking us here. And I thought that, if I ever did come back, it would be under different circumstances," she said. "And being here so late at night kind of gives me the creeps."

"Do you want to go in?" he asked.

"Huh? But we can't. It's past two in the morning, the park's closed."

"I… may or may not know a way in."

She gave him a questioning look. "You do? How?"

"I just do. You'll have to trust me. Are you in?"

"But Gregor, wouldn't that be trespassing? It's illegal."

For a moment they locked eyes, and Gregor didn't know what to say. Of course she was right. The awkwardness was palpable.

"You're right," he said, shaking his head, abashed. "It was stupid of me to suggest. Let's do something else."

Then, curiously, she broke out into a smile. "You're so serious. I was just kidding. Show me where your spot is."

With a confused smile, Gregor took her hand and led her around the park to his secret little entrance point, a dark section of the park's gates that was low enough to scale yet uncovered by cameras and unpatrolled by security. The wall was too high to be scaled by the average New Yorker, but it mattered not if you had the athletic ability or a second set of hands. "This is it," he said when they arrived.

Strangely, Lizzie began giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

"It's just, it's exactly what I expected."

"Meaning…?"

"I studied a bunch of schematics of Central Park before, so I had an idea or two about the few blindspots in security. Your spot matches exactly to one of my predictions."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help himself from laughing too. Just Lizzie things. "Alright, you genius. Come here so I can give you a boost over the wall."

Still grinning, she stepped into Gregor's raised hands, which were cupped into a makeshift platform, which she used to boost herself up and over the wall. Once she was over, he did his routine background checks to make sure nobody was watching, and leaped over the wall himself.

She was waiting for him on the other side, eyeing the park ahead. "It's dark," she said, her grin gone.

"It's like that," he said, standing up beside her and brushing the dust off his jacket. "We'll have to take an alternate path, away from the lamps."

"Do we have to?" she asked.

"Ideally, yeah. Otherwise, we risk getting seen by security or someone we'd rather not meet." Once, in the early days of his Central Park journeys, he had been accosted by a territorial homeless person after he had drifted too close to their camp. Since then, he'd taken caution to avoid anyone else who might also be encroaching on the park after hours.

"In my backpack," she began. "I brought a flashlight. If we're going off path, can I use it?"

He shook his head. "We can't. A moving light source would bring even more attention to us." This was beginning to be a problem. For him, he never had to worry about finding his way without light, and he had never considered the situation of bringing somebody else along. "There's this spot that I frequent, a hill that overlooks the rest of the park. If you take my hand, maybe I can guide us there."

Lizzie didn't seem that convinced. "Even with a guide, it'd be hard to find my footing in the dark. Especially if it's muddy from the rain." She shivered underneath her raincoat, her voice bristling with unease. "Maybe this isn't such a great idea after all."

He weighed his options. They were already here; it felt like a waste to back out now, and he wasn't sure if he wanted absurdly late night walks with his little sister to become a recurring thing. Gazing towards the lit path beyond, he doubted that with the weather and how late it was that they'd run into anyone.

"Come on," he said, offering her a hand. "We'll take the lit path."

She looked up. "Are you sure?"

"I doubt we'll see anyone at this time, and security's not going to care about us 'cause of the rain. Don't worry, Liz, I've been through here many times. It'll be safe."

"Okay," she said, taking his hand. "As long as you don't leave me."

"I would die before I did," he replied, and together they stepped forward into the park.

It was dark and misty, yet the dim light from the lampposts created a sort of melancholic atmosphere which Gregor found himself taking a liking to. Shadows danced and the leaves whistled quietly beside them as they walked, and he took it all in, savoring the solitude that he and his sister now shared.

As they made their way through, he continued his story where he left off, about the earthquake that had collapsed the tunnel behind the odd party of Luxa, Howard, Ares, Aurora, Nike, Hazard, Boots, Thalia, Temp, and himself. It was when the river above the Swag had collapsed through the ceiling, bringing down the tunnel and nearly drowning all of them. His face turned grim as he recalled how badly Hazard had been injured, after barely being saved by Thalia.

"You never told us about Hazard getting injured," Lizzie noted.

"Yeah, I think that's a detail I always left out so I didn't freak you guys out. And because of Mom," he said.

He continued, recollecting how everyone had sat around, drenched in both water and apprehension, as Howard feverishly tried to revive him. How Luxa's eyes remained fixed on Hazard as Howard's hands continued to pump up and down the boy's chest. Then a small grin spread across his face when he remembered Howard's cry of relief:

His heart beats!

And how life had, in an instant, returned to Luxa's sad eyes. Her sad, beautiful, violet eyes.

And as he and Lizzie passed under the light of one of the sidewalk lamps, he immediately froze.

Lizzie stumbled through her momentum, then looked to her brother.

"Gregor? What's up?" she asked quizzically.

But his eyes were closed. His breathing was coming in short, strained breaths. He was concentrating on something.

"Gregor?"

He had been so enveloped in reliving his story that he had let his mind slip away from his surroundings for a minute. How could he have been so stupid to let his guard down, especially with his sister out here?

"Gregor?" she repeated, a hint of fear in her voice. "Come on, you're starting to freak me out." She tugged on his arm, but it was as if she was trying to pull a brick wall.

As they passed under the streetlamp moments ago, his breath caught the outlines of four human figures, surrounding them in a circle on all sides, all hidden behind trees. The rager sensation began to bubble up in him, but something was cramming it back down. Fear. But not for himself.

He increased the pace of his breaths and concentrated on the sounds that bounced back at him, sifting through the background noise of the rain - and taking in his enemies.

Two o'clock, five meters. Five o'clock, ten meters. Nine o'clock, twelve. Eleven o'clock, five. Lake to the right - seven meters.

Another pained breath.

Two and eleven have some kind of blade. Butcher knives?

Another breath.

Nine and five have guns.

He swore under his breath. He would not have noticed them had the enemy at two o'clock from their position not ruffled in agitation, no doubt from their arrival. They were silent, and they were unmoving. And the rain covered most of their movements. They had positioned themselves in ambush positions, playing to their weapons hand. Trained. Or experienced. He didn't know. But one thing was for sure.

This is gonna be rough.

He was armed with only a huntsman knife, which wouldn't have been a problem had two of the thugs not been armed with a goddamned ranged weapon. They looked to be cheap pistols. Cheap, but pistols nonetheless. But he could take them on. As formed as they were, they would still be no match for him. He might get damaged by the bullet, but if he was quick enough, then-

Wait!

He had almost completely forgotten that his freaking sister was with him, and his mind kicked into high gear.

"Liz," Gregor hissed under his breath, "Don't move an inch."

Overcome with fear, she stood as still as a statue, still pivoting her head to look for whatever had stopped Gregor. But she saw nothing but darkness through the rain.

Gregor kept his eyes shut. His reflexes heightened. He blocked off his sight, for it would do nothing but get in the way of his other senses. He had to look for some kind of opening.

But there was none. None that they had given him. He would have to make an opening. But how?

Frozen under the light of the lamp post, Gregor and Lizzie were in the spotlight. There was absolutely nobody around besides them and the ambushers. Gregor's voice was as stiff as steel as it cut through the midnight air.

"We know you're here. What do you want from us?"

A pause. His response was met with the cool breeze of the air.

Then he felt the man at nine o'clock nod his head, and they began to move.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the four men shuffled out of their positions, but only so far as to get a better look at their prey. They stood in the shadows, watching them. He focused on his breathing.

They were tall. All seemed to be well-built. They wore dark black raincoats and pants. Masks covered their faces. Their age, he couldn't tell - but by the shapes of their faces and their stature he could only guess they were all in their twenties to thirties. In other words, they probably far outclassed him in terms of raw strength.

"What do you want from us?" he repeated, sounding less sure of himself than he intended. Two close. Two ranged. I can deal with the two in front of me, but there's no way I can stop the other two from firing. If I'm fast enough, I might be able to take down the two while nailing the guy at eleven or five with my Huntsman. But that still leaves the last one. Wait, in this weather, there's no way they can land the first few shots. But I can't take that chance, not with Liz here. Maybe I can… no, that won't work… no, no, no, that doesn't work either…

Shit.

Lizzie was trembling in fear. She could now see the silhouettes of the men, and waves of panic washed over her. Her heart was racing. She crammed down her fears into her stomach as best she could because having a panic attack here and now would only hinder her brother, but despite her best efforts, she could not stop herself from shaking like a leaf.

"We want this to be clean and fast." The man behind them, to their left, spoke first. His voice was deep and intimidating. "Quite simply, all we want is your money, and all the possessions that are worth anything."

"We don't have anything worth taking," said Gregor carefully. He had to get the jump on them. That was the only way. But how?

"Nothing?" said one of the men skeptically. "Not even a wallet, a bill of cash, a phone?"

"Nothing. Please, just leave us alone. We had no intention of bothering you guys."

It was obvious that they set up the ambush, but at this point, he was just stalling for time.

"Tch. Fine. The girl, then."

His reply was immediate. "No."

"What did you say, you little shit?"

"You're not taking her, asshole." He could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin.

"Hah! As if you're in any position to negotiate!" bellowed the man. He gave a quick nod, and both he and the other man raised their pistols into firing position. "You're outclassed, kid. Do what we say if you want to get out of here alive."

He seethed. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down, he yelled in his mind. Slowly, he raised both of his hands to shoulder height. "Don't shoot," he said. "Look, I have a wallet, okay? It's in my back pocket. There's cash in there. Will you leave us alone if I give it to you?"

"Depends how much is in there."

"I don't remember. Look for yourself."

He paused in consideration. Then, he said: "Check his pockets."

One of the men who had a knife strode cautiously towards him, blade in hand. Gregor took a deep breath through his nose as he concentrated. Lizzie clung to his arm, shivering. Light rain pattered on the sidewalk, the trees, and on the lake. The breaths of the ambushers. The man's shoes, stepping through the puddles towards him… concentrate.

The man strode around to his left.

The other stood in front of him.

He kept his back towards the men with the guns.

He sensed the man lean over, felt hands rummaging through his back pocket...

There was a flash of light, and thunder roared across the city.

Lightning quick, he threw Lizzie to his right side as he brought down his left elbow straight into the man's face, shattering his nose. The sudden pain caused the man to lift his hands to his face in reflex, exposing his chest. That was when Gregor converted all of his body weight into power through a back kick straight into his liver, forcing him backwards in pain. As soon as the man in front realized what was happening, he burst forward and flew his knife at his neck.

The Huntsman was already out of its sheath before it countered the knife with such force that it flew out of the man's hand, flying into the lake and disappearing into the depths. In the time it took the man to register that he was disarmed, he was already in a neck-breaking headlock when the first shot was fired.

As soon as he sensed the man at nine o'clock pulling the trigger on his gun, he maneuvered around the headlocked man, keeping maximum pressure around his neck. A terrifying sound ripped through the rainy air. Gregor could feel the first bullet hit the man's ribcage, shattering it, before losing all of its velocity and settling into his right lung, causing massive pulmonary hemorrhage in its wake.

But it wasn't enough. Even with his rager senses at their peak, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Lizzie had fallen over when he had pushed her, and she was frozen in fear, wide out in the open. The second gunman raised his gun towards her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He moved to push her out of the way. But his position was too awkward, and he wouldn't make it in time to save her.

His mind screamed as he sensed the man's finger pressing on the trigger.

NO!